


Autonomous Control

by Mithen



Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan), Superman Returns (2006)
Genre: Elevator Sex, First Time, Identity Porn, M/M, Reveal, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-08-21
Updated: 2006-08-21
Packaged: 2017-10-15 02:27:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/156082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mithen/pseuds/Mithen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Movieverse Clark and Bruce!  Sex pollen!  Identity play!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Autonomous Control

Clark Kent lost his grip on the chopsticks he were holding and they swiveled wildly in his hand. "Ooops," he muttered, getting them back under control. "Anyway," he continued, jabbing the newly stablized chopsticks in his companion's direction, "I don't know how you can live here." He tried to grab a piece of sushi from his plate and the chopsticks turned in his hand again. The piece of sushi ended up on the linen tablecloth. "Bother."

Bruce Wayne leaned over and arranged the chopsticks in the reporter's hands. "Just keep one rested on this knuckle, stabilized this way, with your thumb...like so." He hated seeing good sushi go to waste. And there wasn't better sushi in Gotham than at the Hoshi. He watched Clark test out his new handhold on the chopsticks. Bruce doubted they had many Japanese restaurants in Smallville, but surely the man could do better than that. He hadn't particularly wanted to meet the reporter for lunch, but he did owe Kent for his help in that recent mess with Luthor's hostile takeover attempt. Let it never be said Bruce Wayne didn't pay off his debts.

Clark negotiated the next piece of sushi more skillfully. He grinned at Bruce. "Hey, you're right, that's a lot better." The man might just be trainable. Bruce rubbed his hands together absent-mindedly. The tips of his fingers could still feel the texture of Clark's skin, like a ghost sensation of warmth. Clark's smile practically left after-images on one's retina.

Bruce had to admit Clark Kent was good-looking, in a sweet puppy-dog dork sort of way. And he wasn't an idiot, however much he might sometimes act it. Bruce had learned soon enough after meeting him that a sharp investigative reporter's mind lurked behind those guileless eyes. Kent would probably even be quite attractive, if you liked your lovers clumsy and submissive.

Bruce Wayne didn't prefer his lovers clumsy and submissive.

Once again, he wondered why he was here at lunch with Clark Kent, and why he was finding excuses to touch him.

He pulled himself back to the conversation at hand. "How do I live here? I live here because Gotham's my home. I grew up here. It's the only place I could ever live."

"Besides the five years you spent in Europe after you dropped out of college." Clark's voice was bland.

"Everyone has to spend some time away from their home to realize how much they love it." Bruce tried to keep his voice smooth to match. Clark's eyes dropped behind the thick glasses and he made a non-committal sound.

"But honestly, Bruce--a criminal who operates by filling stores with a pollen that causes everyone there to, uh..." he trailed off and a blush crept up his clear skin.

"...go mad with lust and ignore the robber while having sex with the nearest person?" Bruce shrugged. "It's Gotham."

Clark sighed. "I can't believe Perry sent me to cover this story," he muttered. "Being in this city is like visiting a madhouse."

Bruce felt a sting of propriatory pride. "Hey, I believe just two months ago an entire new _continent_ was popping into being off the coast of Metropolis. At least Gotham's criminals stick to a fairly small scale. We don't have to deal with gods carrying worlds on their shining backs."

"No, just crazies who lurk around in the shadows," Clark snapped back. He took a deep breath and grabbed a glass of water. "Sorry, Bruce."

Bruce made himself step back mentally as well. There was no reason to take this so personally. "No problem. I admit Gotham isn't for everyone. It's just...my home."

"I can understand that." Clark nodded as though putting the topic behind him. "I was wondering if Wayne Tech had any leads on an antidote to the, uh..." the blush worked its way into his cheeks again, and Bruce grinned.

"The sex pollen?" At Clark's embarrassed nod, he continued. "We're working on a sort of inoculant, but so far it's of limited application. I'm sure you understand that I can't tell you exactly in what way it's limited." To date the inoculant worked only as long as the subject could keep their adrenaline levels and heartbeat steady. Batman's ability to somewhat control his autonomous systems through biofeedback had made it useful to him so far, but it would never work for the larger public yet. Bruce Wayne certainly never left home without it, though.

Clark nodded, frowned, and jotted something down on a notepad. Then he looked up, his eyes surprisingly sharp. "Just out of curiosity...does Wayne Corp have any employees who you think might have the capability to create this pollen?"

Bruce covered his surprise by waving over a waiter to ask for some more water. It was natural that Clark would wonder that, but he was a little taken aback that he'd be bold enough to ask directly. He was addressing the waiter, his head turned away from his dining companion, when he spotted one of his employees. In fact, the very employee that he did suspect of creating the pernicious pollen: Pamela Isley. The redhead was disappearing through a swinging door. _Damnit._ Bruce had the lighter, less armored version of the batsuit on under his suit; it wasn't as reliable as the fully-armored version, but it would probably be good enough to follow Isley and check on what she might be up to. He turned to make up some excuse to Clark.

The reporter was gazing at him with his chin propped on his hands and his head tilted slightly to the side. "You know, Bruce, you have amazingly gorgeous eyes." A radiant smile flashed across his face. "I've been wanting to tell you that from the first moment we met."

 _Uh oh._

Bruce glanced around the restaurant to see the unmistakable signs that the damned sex pollen was in the air: increased flirtation, closer proximity, some couples were already kissing. He jumped up to leave quickly and saw Clark continuing to stare at him, a dreamy smile on his face. _Damn._ He couldn't just leave Clark here, he'd end up rutting with some random stranger. Bruce quelled an odd pang at the thought.

Okay, this was no problem. He'd just take Clark with him, stash him somewhere, and go deal with Isley. As long as Bruce kept his heartbeat steady the pollen wouldn't affect him. He could subdue Kent without even breaking a sweat or his persona, if the guy got too amorous. No problem. Everything was under control.

The day he couldn't deal with an average guy like Clark Kent without raising his heart rate was the day he deserved whatever he had coming to him.

He grabbed Clark by the wrist. "Clark, we're leaving."

The reporter looked thrilled and allowed himself to be dragged to the elevator. No one else seemed anxious to be leaving, as the sexual activity in the restaurant had picked up dramatically. He grabbed a candle from a table and held it to the fire alarm to trigger the sprinkler system, pulling Clark into the elevator with him out of the way of the gushing water. That might cool some people down.

Bruce hit the first-floor button in the elevator and it started to move downward.

Clark reached over and hit the elevator stop button. "Bruce," he said, his voice husky.

Bruce rolled his eyes. "Kent, I really have to get out of here and so do you." He put his hand out to resume the elevator's motion.

Smiling, Clark Kent grabbed his hand and captured it against the elevator wall. Bruce pulled it away and quickly pivoted to--

Wait.

He couldn't pull his hand away. Kent held him to the elevator wall in a completely unbreakable grip. Bruce stared at his hand enclosed in Clark's. Impossible! He went to swing the other hand around and Clark captured that one as well, pinning him up against the wall. "I'm stronger than I look," the reporter murmured, leaning forward to nuzzle his neck.

Bruce couldn't move.

He felt his heart rate spike in panic, felt adrenaline flood his body, and he knew that he was lost. His last fully coherent thought, as he felt Clark's body up against him, was that it was all right with him.

After that it was a desperate race to get clothes off, to get at Clark as soon as possible. The moment Clark realized Bruce wasn't struggling any more he released the other man's hands so they could each manage all the buttons and zippers. Bruce's hands were shaking so much he had a hard time, but Clark's fingers were completely stable as they darted across his clothing. Once Bruce got Clark's shirt off he was annoyed to find another layer of clothing, something slippery and slick in red and blue that was keeping him away from what he wanted, what he needed, from Clark, Clark, Clark. He tried to tear it and growled in frustration when he couldn't.

For his part, Bruce was unsurprised when Clark merely ripped the batsuit off him like it was tissue paper, not bothering to be careful with it as he was with the civilian clothes.

Bruce suspected he would never be surprised by Clark Kent again.

Clark chuckled and in a moment was out of his own suit and up against Bruce, nearly panting. "God, " he gasped, "You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, Bruce, I've wanted you since the moment I met you, wanted you, wanted you..." His eyes rolled back in his head as Bruce's hand found his cock and his voice trailed off into inarticulate groaning. Bruce had a vague sense of relief; it didn't seem fair that Clark was still capable of speech and he didn't seem to be. He didn't seem to have language left, he didn't seem to have anything but want and emptiness and desire. The man next to him could fix that, he knew that now. He couldn't possibly wait any longer. He'd waited too long anyway: ten minutes, four weeks, his entire life. He turned around, his hands on the elevator wall, waiting. Clark moaned something and ran his hands over Bruce's body one more time. Bruce would have been impressed by his restraint if he weren't dying at the delay.

Without lubricant, it probably should have hurt when Clark entered him. It didn't. Clark made a high-pitched keening noise that caused shivers to run all over Bruce's body as he moved inside him. He seemed to have gone beyond language as well, into a place where the only thing that mattered was that they had each other at last.

Bruce came almost immediately when Clark hit that electrical spot inside him; Clark followed moments later, the keening sharpened to something almost above human hearing, a sound that made all the hair on Bruce's body stand on end. If it had been anyone else, or any other time, Bruce might have found it too abrupt. Now he sagged to the floor of the elevator, feeling more content and fulfilled than he had after even the most leisurely, languorous coupling with anyone else.

Pamela Isley had gotten away. He probably would care about that eventually.

He turned his head to find Clark holding a bit of the batsuit that still had the bat insignia on it. Bruce would have expected him to look a little embarrassed, considering the situation, but this time there was no blush on Clark's cheeks. He cocked an eyebrow at Bruce, cleared his throat.

"Something you'd like to tell me, Bruce?"

Under different circumstances, he would have gotten prickly and defensive. He probably would have snarled a lot at Clark about secrets and trust, and have been snapped back at in turn. He might even have said something hurtful that he couldn't take back later.

He was very glad they were under these circumstances and not different ones.

Bruce Wayne leaned forward and captured Clark Kent's lips in a long, passionate kiss. After a moment's hesitation, Clark kissed him back, the deep, searching kiss that they hadn't had time for before. Bruce pulled away a little and smiled into Clark's amazing eyes.

"I have a lot of things I'd like to tell you."


End file.
